


Half-Twilight (Half-Saga)

by BlessMyBliss



Category: Command & Conquer (Video Games), Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Invasion, Artificial Intelligence, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Frenemies, Gen, Humor, Nonsense, Revolution, Romance, Science Fiction, Unrequited Love, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlessMyBliss/pseuds/BlessMyBliss
Summary: Stephanie wrote a novel! The world submerged into twilight...Kane wanted to start a new war. But the war started without him.Aliens trying to protect the Universe. For this they need to destroy the Earth.Bella & Edward forever in love...Yes, it's all insane.
Relationships: Ajay/Kirce James, Alexa Kovacs/Kilian Qatar, Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Jack Granger/Lia Kinsburg, Kane/Alexa Kovacs, Redmond Boyle/Sandra Telfair
Kudos: 1





	1. Half-Dawn,

**Author's Note:**

> Banter, nonsense and a complete madhouse! (In fact, it's social satire and deep philosophy, but who the hell cares, yeah.)  
> I didn't mean to offend anyone's fanatical, religious, political, or any other feelings and/or beliefs. Since the story does not pretend to be serious, all its characters are also completely frivolous. Stephanie here is a literary character who has nothing to do with a real person. Miller, not Meyer. She lives in another reality in 2046. This text isn't RPF.  
> And most importantly: the opinion of the characters is not the opinion of the author.
> 
> P.S.: English is not my native language, so there are a lot of mistakes here, I guess. If you see any, let me know.

Make love, not war.  
One of the slogans of the hippie movement

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.  
Popular wisdom

From the speakers – instead of the usual mumble of ministers, brave speeches of generals or the garrulous gibberish of the scientific community, reporting successes, invariably silent about failures – came some very strange sounds: screeching, heart-rending screams and even growls. The Prophet of the Brotherhood of Nod, who was watching the scene on the screen with an extremely dazed look, did not even immediately notice the appearance of General Qatar.  
"Are you watching porn?" she asked solely out of idle curiosity, approaching.  
It's not that she often caught Kane spend time like this, and to be honest, never at all, but who knows his alien soul, it might just be today that his interest in human amusements has woken up.  
The screeching was replaced by a crash, roar and a yell: "Bella-a-a-a!!!".  
"Nope…" Kane looked away from the screen with difficulty. "This strange movie that was recently broadcast on all channels… Twilight".  
Kilian's curiosity ceased to be idle.  
"Well, how do you like it?"  
"It would be better if I watched porn…"

After reading the third report, General Granger realized: the peaceful life is over. And it happened already at least six months ago, even if nothing explodes anywhere yet, no one attacks the well-maintained Blue Zones, no one drains liquid Tiberium into the city's water pipes, no one runs out into the Central square, with dynamite wrapped around chest and eyes burning with fanaticism… Even if Kane hadn't shown up to say that he is still alive and to congratulate everyone on the start of a new war… There is no more peace. And the trouble came not under the black and scarlet flag from green fields and the Yellow Zones.  
The trouble came from the pages of a book, a very ordinary book about the love of a very ordinary vampire and a very ordinary girl.  
The quiet obsession of the reading public reached a well-known film studio, and a movie was promptly made there. The insanity of the public watching was not so quiet.  
The number of victims slowly but surely crawled to the jubilee thousand. At the top of the list were critics of all stripes who blew the film – and at the same time the book – to smithereens. They were followed by those who in one way or another risked question the literary talent of Mrs. Miller, simply made unflattering remarks about the acting, or was guilty of some little things… All the rest suffered only because they did not become ardent fans of Twilight.  
And skirmishes which used to reach only a girl's hair-pulling brawl had now evolved into a different phenomenon. Fans of the novel began to quietly organize themselves into quite large groups and banally intimidated those who disagreed with their point of view. In various ways.  
Granger looked out the window. On the wall of the building opposite was a huge banner shown Edward Cullen beholding the world.  
"Have you read this book?" asked the General from his assistant, who had just brought the next reports from the fields.  
"I now read it, sir," lieutenant Telfair smiled embarrassedly.  
"Throw it away. No, better burn it".  
"But, sir…"  
"That's an order, Sandra".  
"Yes, sir…"

"You haven't changed your mind about the war, right?"  
"Uh huh…" The Prophet, with an absent expression on his face, was pinching off small crystals from the Tiberium druse.  
"Well…" Suppressing the desire to whack Kane on the forehead by this druse – in order he finally remembered that the crystal, although sacred, but for normal people is poisonous, so there is no need to drag it around the Temple, it's not a toy, – General Qatar reported: "I have an idea".  
"Uh huh…"  
"In short, we’ll capture Goddard, then blow the hell out 'Philadelphia', where the entire Council of Directors will be meeting soon… What do you say?"  
"Uh huh…"  
"Are you feeling all right?" Kilian came closer. The prophet, of course, is a creature with very large cockroaches in his head, but he has not yet tried to pretend to be an owl.  
"N-no. Listen, Kilian… I don't know why, but… I suddenly really wanted to watch Twilight again. Is this… really bad?"  
"Uh huh…" the General almost said, but she bit her tongue in time and limited herself to eloquently covering her eyes with palm.

Meanwhile, on board the orbital station 'Philadelphia' a pleasant revival reigned. All Directors of the Global Defense Initiative, headed by Lia Kinsburg, with ostentatious seriousness were preparing for a very important meeting, but actually took the opportunity to flaunt in front of the cameras, troll journalists and chat with each other: decisions have already been made a few days ago at a secret meeting, there was only to voice them at the upcoming press conference.  
But all the plans went to waste, barely got in touch with Philadelphia… but no, not Kane at all. Redmond Boyle himself. Because of problems at the Treasury, he lingered on Earth and was due to arrive any minute.  
"I can't make it, Lia," he said at once. "No, no, do not even persuade. It's all bad, just awful, Armageddon and the Babylonian pandemonium! And I have to deal with everything! No, no, I won't come. I'm very busy!"  
The state of affairs at the Treasury was reported to the Director-General Kinsburg for a long ago. There was nothing terrible in it, but Redmond could not miss that opportunity: he was afraid to death of any transport moving more than ten meters above the surface. Except, maybe, elevators, and only because he did not perceive them as a transport. It was unrealistic to lure him into an airplane, and even more so to a space station. Unless...  
"I'm sorry, Redmond. I hoped that you would join us at this crucial moment… Besides, our guest wanted to see you…"  
"A guest?"  
Lia lowered her voice to a conspiratorial half-whisper:  
"Stephanie Miller..."  
"The same Stephanie Miller?!" almost jumped Boyle. "Is she there? But… I didn't know…"  
"She's incognito here. What a pity that you cannot meet her…"  
"I'm flying! I'm on my way!!!"  
"We're waiting only for you," on Lia Kinsburg's face was drawn a smile filled with restrained joy, which crawled into a triumphant shark grin as soon as the connection was interrupted.

The Legion bunker control room was quiet. And empty.  
"Alexa?" General Qatar asked just in case. And she was not mistaken – the abbess, disheveled and rather frightened, poked her head out from behind the AI's console.  
"It's you…" she gasped, getting up.  
Already assuming the worst, but knowing that her assumptions would most likely turn out to be just a pale shadow of reality, Kilian demanded:  
"Well, what have you done this time?"  
"I'm not on purpose!" immediately kvetched Alexa, pretendedly sniffing and stealing glances at Kilian, trying to divine, will she help at once or there's need to entreat a little more. "I downloaded from the network an archive of Miller's book and as soon as I opened it, Legion fro-o-oze! And shuts do-o-own…"  
"Smart machine".  
"How can I fix it now?.."  
Before the General could answer, Kane came into sight. He gazed at Alexa, who was trying to create visibility of extremely guilty look, and at Kilian, who was once again wearily covering her eyes with her hand… Understood everything, but, collecting the remnants of optimism, decided to check.  
"Just don't say that you've ruined my AI again".  
"I'm not on purpose!" the abbess buried her face in her hands, afraid that she might not be able to adequately depict the desired degree of remorse.  
"F**k!" Kilian said loudly.  
This produced a rather strange effect. The monitors slowly brightened, the control panels flickered to life, blinked cheerfully, the processors quietly hummed… The AI came to his senses.  
"What have you done?" Alexa and Kane asked in a stunned chorus.  
"A universal command that cancels the last actions. It was integrated into all operating systems by numerous user requests".  
Four cameras located in the corners of the room synchronously aimed at the abbess with a silent reproach in their lenses.  
"Alexa, do you want me dead?" flashed on the central screen.  
"No, I want to read Twilight…"  
"I'll better give you a book," Kilian went to the door: since everything worked out – isn't it? – it's time to return to business. "Just finish a couple of pages…"  
Kane’s eyes became square.  
"What do you want it for?"  
"Mmm… you need to know which enemy you have to deal with".  
"By the way, about the enemies," the Prophet now remembered the urgent matters. "Legion, what about the diversion in the Treasury of the GDI? Did you hold up Boyle?"  
The screen blinked, then an image of some red cat with a piercing gaze slowly appeared on it. The cat looked very guilty.  
"That... that was important, yes?" Alexa batted her eyelashes innocently, but still retreated to the protection of the console.  
Kane just sighed:  
"And what should I do with you?.."  
"Put under home arrest without sweets and TV," General Qatar suggested. "Well, or kiss and say that you are not angry…"  
With that, she winked at Alexa and went for the book. After it a bundle of wires flew over and slammed itself into the wall with a loud slap: the joke obviously did not like.  
"Okay, I’ll strangle you later…" Kane promised and also hastened to leave to think about how to adjust his plans now.  
Sometimes the General guessed his wishes too well.

Commander Will Johnson saluted from the doorway and marched to the table littered with all kinds of documentation. General Granger rose to meet him.  
"So quickly, son. Well done".  
"I'm doing my best, sir!" the commander barked, as if he was not in a small office, but on the parade ground in front of a line of freshly shaven rookies.  
"Did you got there all right? As you can see, we have a lot of trouble here…"  
"I got there without incident, sir!"  
"Well. Then let's get down to business. We don't know what happened yet, but one thing is clear: the Brotherhood is up to something! And we need to find out what it is. They are gathering troops in all the Yellow Zones, but they don't try to attack our fortifications… Director-General Kinsburg ordered to open fire only in response. So now we are waiting for their actions. But what are they waiting for?"  
Shouts came from the street: "Edward! Bella! Love forever!"  
With a discontentedly grimace, Granger started setting out the target.  
"All East Coast troops are at your disposal. First, check out what the fanatics are doing in North Carolina, a recent scan of the area revealed an underground power grid there… Drop in military intelligence headquarters, Lieutenant Kirce James will provide you all the necessary data. If the fanatics decided to build a base under our nose, it could be nominated for the 'Joke of the Year' award…"  
Will listened attentively, but every now and then slightly slanted his head as if trying to catch what interesting was going on outside the windows.  
"Any questions?" the standard phrase marked the end of the conversation.  
"Not at all, sir!"  
The General heard ringing in his ears.  
"Free".  
Will had already marched to the door when Jack remembered that he had a question of his own.  
"Commander? Wait, son… Tell me, have you read Twilight?"  
"No, sir…"  
"Thank God…"  
"…I've watched it!"

Commander John Wilson was sure that he would succeed. And he was not mistaken.  
His squad had managed to get close to Goddard unnoticed, the despicable infidels did not even suspect what the hell was being afoot, and they probably realized it only when they arrived to the gates of Paradise…  
The mission was simple: to capture or destroy the missile defense systems control center. Why this was needed, John was not informed, but he had his own thoughts on this subject.  
And now mission accomplished. Goddard is captured. 'Philadelphia' is defenseless.  
Kane will be pleased…  
John ordered to sent a report to the Temple Prime to please his top-brass with his successes, but one of the technicians had already set up a video link, so that the Prophet could admire the heroes of the Brotherhood in all their tired, dirty, dusty and scratched-bruised glory.  
After listening to the Commander’s report, Kane made a heartfelt two-minute speech, which was slightly less than completely composed of ornate metaphors, the essence of which was that the Brotherhood rules and the GDI sucks.  
"Go and look at the sky, my children! And you will see punishing sword of the Brotherhood cuts off Hydra's head!" in conclusion, the Prophet called with inspiration and disappeared from the screen.  
The young sergeant timidly asked a joyfully smiling commander:  
"Brother, I'm sorry, but what did he mean? Well, about Hydra and the sky… Something I did not understand…"  
John shrugged thoughtlessly:  
"Well, 'Philadelphia' will be blown up, probably".  
"Really?" the sergeant gasped, almost clutching at his chest. "But… but it mustn't be blown up!"  
"Why so?"  
"But there… there… there is Stephanie Miller in it!"  
The next half hour was the most eventful in the John Willson's life. Because he managed to closely interrogate one of the captive commanders, send his own engineers to fix the diligently broken-down control center, turn over four enemy ones to help his own, confront doubts as to whether he was doing the right thing, remember how many stingy manly tears had been shed over the last pages of Twilight and how many nails had been bitten in anticipation of the release of the film, stop doubting, finally activate the repaired missile defense system, destroy the rocket aiming to 'Philadelphia' and, with a sense of fulfilled duty, solemnly surrender to the GDI commander, who just came to oneself after interrogation.

"Ste-pha-nie! Ste-pha-nie! Ste-pha-nie!" chanted a crowd of thousands gathered at the checkpoint on the border of B-11. The cortege of GDI directors was expected any minute, but who was interested in these politicians?  
Stephanie Miller herself was supposed to return with them from a trip that almost ended tragically!  
After someone at the Treasury overheard Boyle's secret conversation with the Director-General and spread the rumor that the author of Twilight is on the 'Philadelphia' board, the nosy journalists, who gathered on that board for the press conference, by hook or by crook found Stephanie and followed on her heels, so diligently, that the station staff had to remind them by speakerphone of the main purpose of their arrival. Thrice.  
And now people who, from the latest news, have gathered meager information that someone launched a rocket and someone shot it down, came out to meet miraculously saved writer.  
They right on the go made up originality comparable to the eighth remake of 'The Nightmare on Elm Street' speeches and lame poems and yelled them so loudly, that Tiberium cracked in all the surrounding Yellow Zones.  
"Who against us, let you bleed! Miller, Twilight – all we need!"  
"GDI and Nod to dust! Only Twilight must to last!"  
"This is 'S'! This is 'M'! This is Ste-pha-nie Mil-ler! Hoora-a-ay!!!  
"Stephanie for President!" someone suddenly shouted. The crowd fell silent, remembering what the 'president' is – no one has held this post since the Firestorm crisis: somehow, even then there weren’t any normal states left… Finally, the smartest ones picked up the idea taking into account modern realities:  
"Stephanie for Director-General!"  
A second later, thousands of people selflessly was tearing their throats, repeating the call.  
Riding in one of the limousines with Boyle and a couple of other Directors Stephanie smiled sweetly:  
"Fans are such dreamers…"  
Redmond stooped down to her and whispered confidentially:  
"Actually, this is the voice of the people, to which we, the leaders, should listen… In fact, wouldn't you like to…"  
"Oh no," Stephanie waved off with a share of coquetry. "Which the Director-General of me is?"  
"The best!" Boyle confidently declared. "And, if you will allow me, I'll try to prove it. Let me tell you a secret, many people are not satisfied with Lia's political course. And you… in such a short time you have done so much for us, for the whole world… Your book is a revelation… You, like anyone else, are worthy of the post of the Director-General. You will not refuse to lead the people and open the way to a world of love and joy, will you?"  
"Perhaps… I will not refuse. But before the election of the Director-General it's about three more years…"  
"The people cannot wait so long!"  
As if in confirmation of Boyle's words, shouts full of adoration and admiration were heard again from the outside.  
"If you let me, I will arrange everything myself".  
"If it's not too much trouble for you… For the sake of the people, I will do anything".  
Stephanie turned back to the window. If Director-General Kinsburg could have seen her smirk at that moment, she would burst with envy.


	2. Half-Midday,

The Central TV Channel of the Brotherhood, with the original name "Central TV Channel of the Brotherhood", broadcast to all areas controlled by Nod and even some areas controlled by the GDI. And now the most interesting program had just begun, so the people, whom time allowed, pulled themselves up to their 'idiot boxes' in anticipation of the news.  
Everyone's favorite newscaster, Aegina Rory, greeted the audience with a standard phrase – "One vision, one purpose" – and briefly described all the slow-moving events: revolutions in Africa, counter-revolutions in Australia, ion storms over Europe, ozone holes over America, and the GDI, as always, is to blame for everything.  
"Now for more on these and other news," Aegina said, and actually started to talk in more detail, but suddenly stopped in midsentence. Frowned. Shook her head decisively. "Who cares about that?! The really important news right now is an attempt on the life of Stephanie Miller! Two minutes ago we established a connection with the Temple Prime, and the Prophet was kind enough to agree to answer on live TV a few questions to his devoted followers!"  
The image was split in two, leaving studio and sister Rory on the left side of the screen, and Kane appeared on the right.  
"Greetings, my children. May the force…" he realized that he was saying something wrong, and quickly added, "…of Tiberium be with you!"  
He looked expectantly at Rory, implying: ask, since you had distracted me from super important matters.  
"According to our information, a nuclear missile was recently launched from a suburb of Cairo, which was supposed to destroy the orbital station of the infidels. Fortunately, the missile was shot down…"  
"Why 'fortunately'?" the Prophet did not understand, so he even forgot about pathos.  
"Because Stephanie Miller wasn't hurt!" Aegina's joy knew no bounds. "Is it known who could have committed such a villainy?"  
"Since when is the destruction of the infidels considered a villainy? In my absence, has the Brotherhood forgotten who the true enemy is? Who is the only obstacle to our future, illuminated by the light of the sacred Crystal?.."  
"N-no," sister Rory was a little taken aback. "But Stephanie Miller…"  
Kane barely refrained from 'facepalm':  
"Philadelphia is a challenge to the Brotherhood, an abominable reminder that the children of Nod cannot feel safe while there is GDI on this planet! And next time, no miracle will save the infidels! All of them, including this pitiful writer, will turn to dust under the feet of the messengers of a new world – the world of Tiberium!.."  
Right after these words Aegina had strange seizure. She clutched her fingers on the edge of the table, trembled violently, and made a few inarticulate sounds, as if her tongue had suddenly stopped obeying to her. But it quickly passed, and after a couple of moments, sister Rory jumped up, raising her hands to the ceiling, behind which, presumably, somewhere far away there was sky, and screeched:  
"Children of Nod! Our prophet disowned us! You heard it! Stephanie told us about true love, about light and peace! The Prophet wants to destroy Stephanie! How can we follow him now?! How can we trust him? Oh heaven, stop my heart, why did you let me live to see this moment?.."  
After this Aegina's strength ran out, and she fell under the table. Either she had decided to relax, or heaven had fulfilled her request for once… On all screens appeared channel's logo and the inscription "Technical problems".  
"I'm totally freaked out," was all Kane said when the connection with the studio was cut.  
And in the bowels of the Legion's bunker, General Qatar and Abbess Kovacs, who had been watching this pantomime, exchanged silent glances.  
"I always wondered," taking a special tissue out from the packaging, Alexa began to wipe the touch panels, to which the AI reacted with the phrase "Oh, it tickles", "how he has the patience with such a serious look to talk this fairy-tale balderdash?"  
"And I always wondered how people have the patience to listen to this…"

The folder literally burned hands. Sandra was in a hurry, hoping to catch Granger in his office, so she wouldn't have to search the entire General staff, or even Washington, but it's really hard to run around in a miniskirt.  
She habitually entered the office without knocking and reporting: the always busy general did not like to waste time on mere formalities, when they are not necessary, did not indulge in any indecency at the workplace, therefore he was not afraid to get busted, and even if so, to his assistant he completely trusted.  
"General Granger, sir?" Sandra called, looking around the room.  
Silence.  
After making a lot of mental comments about the fool uniform she must wear at work, the Lieutenant put the folder on the table – there, where among the piles of all kinds of reports, denunciations and personal files a dime of space was cleared. She accidentally touched the sensor panel, and a holographic screen unfolded above the table – apparently, Jack came out for a short while, since he hadn’t turned it off.  
On the screen there was some report or protocol, not used to getting into the affairs of her superiors uninvited, and not feeling the urge to be caught in such an unworthy pastime, Sandra was about to leave, but a treacherous look snatched a name from the text which suddenly made everything else unimportant.  
Stephanie Miller.  
Curiosity effortlessly forced Sandra to give up her principles and indulge in a nefarious occupation, namely, to stick her nose into the secret interrogation protocol of the recently captured Nod commander, one John Willson.

For obvious reasons, the press conference, which was to be held in 'Philadelphia', was rescheduled for a later date and lower orbit.  
For the same reasons, most of the Directors had quickly dispersed to their Zones to make sure that the Brotherhood does not intend to begin hostilities in the near future. Well, or to prepare if suddenly they do.  
And Lia Kinsburg, as usual, had to fight off for everyone.  
"…Taking into account the changes that have taken place over the past two years, we have decided to revise the main economic model in favor of more rigidly structured relations…"  
Journalists openly yawned. Economics, politics and other abstract concepts did not interest them. And already in the tenth minute a question was asked:  
"Tell me, will Twilight soon be added to the school curriculum? And from what grade do you plan to study it?"  
"That's not planned at all," Lia said in an icy voice. She's had enough of this damned novel.  
But the journalists, having suddenly perked up, began to literally bombard her with questions in stuff like that:  
"What do you think about giving state awards to the Twilight film crew?"  
"Should it be forbidden by law to give children the names 'Bella', 'Edward' and 'Stephanie' or, on the contrary, legally obliged?"  
"Is there any chance that one of the new cities will be named after Miller?"  
And so on and so forth…  
"Enough!" the Director-General finally barked slamming both hands on the table. The journalists went quiet, like a loud-voiced cur fell silent after kicking in muzzle, and then Lia said more calmly, "You should address all the questions about Mrs. Miller to Mrs. Miller herself. Now we have more important things to do, than some kind of book. Tiberium, The Brotherhood…"  
"Did you all hear that?" the young journalist jumped up so abruptly that he overturned his chair. Because of his indignation, steam was almost coming out of his ears. "More important things?! Some kind of book?! I don't know about the others, but I definitely have no more questions!"  
And he resolutely headed for the exit from the conference room. The rest of the journalists first filmed in detail his demonstrative departure, then themselves rattled their chairs. Only six of the good fifty remained in the room.  
"What do you want? Is it interesting to listen about the economy?"  
The oldest of the journalists, a respectable man with gray hair, conciliatory raised his hands:  
"No questions about Miller."  
"Well… Then let's continue. However…" Lia looked around the huge empty room, then again turned to the press. "Let's go to my office. I think none of you will refuse a cup of coffee?"

Diligently powdered her nose to at least somehow hide the effects of two-hour sobs, Lieutenant Telfair left the ladies' room and headed toward the office trying to stay close to the wall and avoid attracting the attention of the few employees hurrying about their business.  
Growing up in the Blue Zone, Sandra was devoted to GDI with all her soul, proud to be serving the cause of peace, sedulously considered the followers of Nod fanatics, but now she was ready…  
…Send it all to hell! He saved Stephanie! He, a fanatic, saw the light of true love emanating from the pages of the Book, and renounced his delusions… He was not afraid to become not leniency deserving traitor to the whole Brotherhood, not afraid to give himself in the hands of enemies who would not be kind after the destruction of Goddard… And this is for her sake. For the sake of Stephanie! He, the hero, the Apostle of the new world – the world of Bella and Edward – will become the first martyr, destined to end his life somewhere in the dungeons of the GDI or in a prison camp…  
Despite all efforts to control herself, Sandra again felt tears trickle down her cheeks.  
This is dishonest! But was there anything she can do? Is it possible to steal the protocol and send it to some major media company? She had just fold the screen when Granger returned to the office. And if he suspected something?..  
Behind her, an elevator door creaked, letting out into the light of day the Treasurer of the GDI, Redmond Boyle, and his secretary, a curly-haired lady with bandy legs and a sly grin.  
"Who dared to upset such a lovely creature?" Boyle cooed, as soon as the Lieutenant ran up to him.  
"Order the release of John," demanded at once 'a lovely creature'. Thought and added: "In the name of Stephanie".  
To his misfortune, Redmond asked who, in fact, this John is, and for the next ten minutes he listened to the brave commander's tragic story. At the eleventh, he realized that Sandra was right and that the prison isn't a appropriate place for the Stephanie's rescuer.  
"I will do everything I can," he promised, "and a little more than that. You were right to come to me at once."  
Lieutenant Telfair literally has shone with joy.

When Will Johnson finally became convinced that the fanatics were not going to attack anyone, relaxed and even got a little bored, an order came from the General staff. It was necessary to move troops to the secret prison to protect it from some rioters. They didn't tell Will any more, but wrongly.  
Upon arrival, the commander discovered that the rioters were actually fans of Stephanie Miller and they came to free the hero who had saved 'Philadelphia' and now languishing in the dungeons of the GDI. The fact that if the hero had not smashed up Goddard at first, he would have no reason to be a hero, no one cared.  
Director Boyle, having received categorical refusal at his request to release John Willson, had tired of unsuccessfully pulling political strings and without thinking twice did not hesitate to address the people, about whose interests he loved to talk with everyone who was ready to listen to. Outraged by injustice, the people supported him. Will also supported, when he found out for what good purpose the stephanites had gathered under the walls of the prison. So after a couple of hours nothing was left of these walls.

Twenty-first century almost exceeded half, Tiberium had wiped out most of the forests, and the rest were carefully protected, so that books printed on real paper, not on the pitiful substitute that had replaced it, became a rarity. Now people came to libraries like to museums, to admire the remnants of former luxury, to breathe until the faint in the real book dust, or even to touch carefully, with one finger the old binding, when the stern librarian don't watch…  
Smash! A-a-a-a-boom-m-m!!!  
The stern librarian, having received a non-foolish kick in the ass, flew out of the door of the Central Library number eight and slammed his forehead into the lamppost. The first books followed him, crumbling in flight by yellowed pages. In vain the miserable man had said to the accidentally came stephanites that he did not have the creation of Miller, because it does not belong among literary works…  
The shattered glass in the second-floor window by cheerfully fragments bounced on the asphalt, and after them weighty volumes of the complete works fell. Whose works exactly, stephanites didn't care, they threw books out of windows and doors, and like-minded people who arrived, realizing what was going on, began quickly shoveling them into a pile right in the middle of the street.  
When the pile was large enough, one of the stephanites picked up the first book he saw.  
"Fahrenheit four hundred and fifty-one," he read. He opened the volume in the middle, carelessly torn out several pages, crumpled them up and struck a lighter, saying: "What a stupid title! Always these pathetic scribblers show off, and yet all ingenious is simple! Twilight! What could be more beautiful and harmonious?!"  
The crowd that had gathered and the fire that had run up to the top of the book mountain supported him with an approving hum.  
"Wait!" suddenly a piercing scream came from the back rows. Five sturdy boys pushed the people, rushed to the fire and began to scatter books and bring down the flames. The crowd did not like it.  
The scuffle that had begun was stopped by the same voice. A plump girl of about fifteen ran out to the center of the place and waved her hands, drawing attention to herself.  
"Wait, we mustn't burn books!"  
"What's the use of books, if there's no Bella and Edward in them?" shouted the recent fire-raiser, coming closer with the clear intention of sending the girl to the same fire if she try spoils the entertainment of people.  
"These are books! Real, paper ones!" The plump girl gave everyone an expressive look, as if hoping that the stephanites would understand. But they only grimly narrowed the circle around her. It had to be explained: "Paper can be recycled! And we can print new books! Thousands of volumes of Twilight!"  
The frowning faces brightened instantly. Within a minute, bags miraculously appeared, and slightly fried books had been collected in them, someone had called for trucks, and the stephanites in a single rush began to pull out everything that remained on the shelves in the library.  
"And you wanted to destroy such a valuable resource," the enterprising girl chided fire-raiser, "without thinking about how much benefit it can bring to all of us and Stephanie!"  
"The wrecker!" someone shouted hoarsely. "The apostate!"  
The stephanites instantly pricked up their ears.  
"Well, I didn’t know… I just wanted to…" the unfortunate pyromaniac began make excuses, slowly backing away from the library.  
"He did not think about Stephanie! He didn't care about Stephanie!" the owner of a hoarse voice did not appease, nevertheless, without running out to an open place, trying to keep behind the stephanites. "Maybe he's a GDI or Nod spy? And this was a diversion?.."  
The distraction maneuver had worked: while the stephanites were dealing with the 'saboteur', the librarian, who hoarse from many years spent in book dust, slipped away unnoticed, grabbing the largest bag of books he could lift. He was in a hurry to inform his colleagues in other cities and Zones about the danger that threatened them.  
Ten minutes later, the plump girl and her five friends were commanding the loading of the 'valuable resource' into the trucks, the stephanites were cheerfully, quite like ants, scurrying back and forth, only the fire-raiser was quietly swinging on the lamppost, where he was hung so that he would not interfere underfoot.

"Commander John Willson," introduced himself the former dedicated adept of Nod.  
"Commander Will Johnson," introduced himself the former loyal supporter of the GDI.  
"Stephanie Miller," introduced herself Stephanie Miller.  
The Blue Zone didn't seem safe enough to her, and she wanted to get her own private fiefdom, so in the bowels of an abandoned base, after hasty chasing away rats, spiders, visceroids, mutants and a hippie colony from there, a temporary headquarters were set up. There gathered all those who wanted to follow Stephanie and protect her from the misfortunes of the cruel world.  
Having settled down and rested after escaping from zone B-11, Redmond Boyle, who had joined the stephanites army, decided to introduce the heroes of the day to Mrs. Miller, for which he brought a sweet couple in front of her lucid eyes.  
Will Johnson stretched himself like a string, as if on parade, and John Willson, on the contrary, curved in a respectful obeisance.  
"At ease, soldiers," Stephanie said. "I am immensely glad that it is you, my readers and worshippers, who are next to me at this crucial moment. You saved me, but not only me – you saved Edward and Bella, their beautiful love! The whole world looks at you with gratitude and admiration…  
Completely embarrassed by the great honor, Will and John humbly listened to the praise from the writer, looking down and blushing more and more every second.  
But tired of praising others, Stephanie suddenly tragically sighed and sadly lowered her head.  
"It's so nasty, but many people still keep evil and hatred in their hearts… Perhaps my book is not as good as it should be…"  
Both commanders, as well as Redmond, who was overhearing at the door, immediately rushed to comfort the writer, showering her with enthusiastic compliments up to the top of her head.  
"No, no," Mrs. Miller feignedly lamented in response, "even one person with an evil heart can destroy hundreds and thousands of good ones… The book is powerless against such…"  
"Where is he?" John and Will barker in unison. "Where is this villain?!"  
"Point it out to us," asked Redmond, "and we'll find him… them… all…"  
"…And cut out their evil hearts…"  
"…And burn their evil-desecrated bodies…"  
"…And strangle their children in their cradles, so that there will be no trace of evil left…"  
"…And rip out the tongue of anyone who utters their shameful names…"  
"…And may peace and love reign!.."  
Reassured, Stephanie gave her followers a sweet smile:  
"Peace and love… It sounds so wonderful!"

General Qatar was sitting on the table – cause it was cold on the floor, but uncomfortable in the chair – in the lotus position and pretended to be meditating. Or rather, she pretended to be pretending. It's very problematic to meditate, when Kane has been wandering around this unfortunate table for almost an hour with the expression of "I will kill everyone, I will stay alone" on his face and some villainous plans in his head.  
"And how do you explain this?" he finally asked.  
Kilian gave a long-prepared answer:  
"Nohow."  
"What does it mean, 'nohow'?!" the Prophet became angry. "Are you a General or who?!"  
"Oh, sorry, I keep forgetting. Nohow, sir."  
"Kilian!!!"  
"I already… mmm… no matter how many years 'Kilian' is. Calm down. The military intelligence department is currently processing data. In half an hour everything will be ready."  
"A whole half hour?!"  
"Listen, you've been waiting twenty years to start a war, but now you can't wait thirty minutes?"  
"That's it! I'm preparing, you know, making plans, thinking everything out to the smallest detail… and suddenly some upstart gets out and rain on my parade! And lures my followers!"  
"The GDI has the same problems. Will that make you feel better?"  
"No!!!"  
"Okay… We'll concoct something."  
Kane ceased flouncing like a wild beast in a cage and stopped just behind the General.  
He asked very quietly and even somehow hesitantly:  
"Kilian… I'm better... better than Stephanie, right?"  
"About 'better' I do not know," the General jumped to the floor: it is not the fate, apparently, to bring the Chi energy to harmony with the Universe. "But you're definitely cuter."

At the emergency meeting dedicated to Stephanie and her novel, only half of the GDI directors came. The other half, led by Redmond Boyle, had declared Lia Kinsburg's regime a dictatorship and refused to recognize it, at the same time offering the only possible compromise: Kinsburg's resignation and Miller's appointment to her post. And if the Director-General could have agreed to the first demand for the sake of a peaceful settlement of the conflict, then to the second – certainly not. She had long ago understood that a simple housewife, who suddenly had become the idol of millions and was almost canonized, was in fact far from being as simple as seemed.  
General Granger was also invited to the meeting.  
"Gentlemen," Lia looked round at all persons present, on whose faces was a common hunted expression. "I'm at a loss. We are no longer in control of the situation. Sorry for the pun, but the world has submerged into twilight. And now it's up to us entirely whether they will be the harbingers of dawn or the final onset of darkness. I want to ask General Granger to report on our progress."  
Jack cleared his throat.  
"The current situation is that we can't pinpoint the exact numbers of these… 'stephanites', as they call themselves. Twilight is an epidemic, and it has already engulfed the entire planet. The only thing that pleases, the book acts equally on us and on the fanatics of Nod. So there is no need to worry about the Brotherhood yet. According to intelligence reports, Stephanie and her inner circle are in Brazil. There is a Nod base, they left it a long time ago, we tried to repair it and adapt for our troops, but we did not finish it, there was no need. Now in all cities, stephanites are capturing TV centers and other media outlets, as well as publishing houses. The local authorities either do nothing or help. We have completely lost control of the B-4 and B-9, and the B-3 and B-18 are also coming to that…"  
"Excuse me," one of the Directors said, "but what do these stephanites really want? What are their requirements?"  
"They want to read Twilight, watch Twilight, talk about Twilight, listen to Twilight, admire Twilight, look for the deepest meaning in Twilight…"  
"Well, is there need to arrange disorder? Let them read, watch, and discuss… Is it that anyone interfere with them?"  
Granger looked at Lia in surprise: how did such a naive person became a member of the Council of Directors?  
"They are disturbed by those who think differently from them," the Director-General explained patiently. "Stephanites want to prove to all those who disagree that they are wrong. And in the absence of weighty arguments, they use weighty items."  
"Oh crap, I'd rather pray to Tiberium than consider this nonsense a masterpiece…"  
Whatever the outcome of the conversation, it remained unknown: the Director-General's secretary flew into the office.  
"There… there…" he paused, took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then continued, " Stephanie Miller has a statement to make…"  
Lia waved her hand at the large wall-length screen, and the secretary began to fuss, connecting it.

"I have news for you, my precious and beloved fans!" Stephanie was smiling cheerfully at the world, which was frozen in anticipation of her revelations. "And you probably already guess which one? Of course, you guess. And I will tell you with great pleasure – yes, you are right! A new book! Only an hour ago, the last dot was put in it! Be patient, my friends, and soon you will be able to meet Edward and Bella again, touch their great and beautiful love! Wait and believe – love will save the world! Only those, in whose hearts lives love, are worthy to live on this planet! Only loving hearts have the right to beat! Remember this!  
The transmission ended.  
"Even Kane couldn’t call for genocide so metaphorical…" Director-General Kinsburg estimated the speech.  
"Yeah," Granger agreed. "To be honest, I'd prefer to listen to him. 'Glory to Crystal, death to the infidels' – all clearly and to the point, not like this… writer."  
"Our business must be completely bullshit, if we already started to miss Kane…" Lia's secretary said. He grunted, pulled his head into his shoulders and quickly evaporated from the office, so as not to get hit for his long tongue.  
However, everyone present agreed with his words.  
Meanwhile, somewhere in the bunker not far from the Temple Prime, Stephanie's performance was watched by their sworn enemies.  
"This woman really scares me," General Qatar thoughtfully fingered a chain around her neck. "I need to urgently fall in love with someone… just in case."  
"And I, perhaps, refuse." Kane pretended not to notice that Alexa accidentally on purpose drew herself close to Kilian and looked at her very eloquently. "After meeting with McNeil, I had to grow a new heart… And I don't want anything to live in it."  
Without even a flicker of attention from Kilian, the abbess let out a heartbreaking sigh.  
"What a blessing that, according to Mayer’s criteria, I’m quite worthy," she said ironically, then picked up her pad and left.  
Leaving the necklace, Kilian leaned over the Legion console, requesting updates of the unrest in the Yellow Zones.  
"I can only commiserate to her chosen one, whoever he is."  
"I wish I could be the object of your commiseration," Kane thought, but out of habit pretended not to care at all.


	3. Half-Sunset,

On the walls and doors of houses, yellow-orange drawings began to appear more and more often.  
The Sun, rather conditionally depicted, just a circle and several rays. With this sign, vigilant citizens marked the homes of apostates who did not comprehend the depths of Twilight and stubbornly refused to accept their wisdom and all-encompassing love.  
The "fashion" that originated in one of the B-5 cities quickly spread across the Blue and Yellow Zones. And in some places, the authorities went even further, forcing by law those who did not want to read and worship Twilight to sew yellow stars on their clothes so that everyone would know what vile subjects they were dealing with.  
Lia Kinsburg immediately acquired such an emblem.  
"Sunlight will dispel twilight," she said, and laughed at her own pathos.  
The next day, all the remaining Directors followed suit, and someone managed to paint a star on the facade of the White House.  
They didn't wash it.

The protracted war increasingly worsened Stephanie's mood. But filming the screen version of the second book, at the contrary, improved it. So the mood of Mrs. Mayer remained approximately at the same level, staying in fragile balance.  
"Weaponry…" she sighed softly, sadly, one day. "How much evil it has brought to the world!"  
Will and John hung their heads, ashamed that they had resorted to this remedy too often.  
"It helps protect those in whose hearts love and Twilight live…" commander Willson muttered, justifying himself.  
"And liberate the people," Boyle added, "from oppressors and tyrants…"  
Mrs. Miller smiled with infinite patience and condescension:  
"Of course. And we will have to take up weapons again in order to cleanse the world of filth. Once and for all. And then all who are subject only to love will find their happiness. Are you ready to help the world tired of pain?"  
"Yes!" all three exclaimed in unison.  
"Those whose minds cannot accept the revelation of Twilight are too poisoned by evil and hatred. The best, the most merciful thing we can do is give them… rest. Eternal rest."

Smoke from two chimneys of a hastily repaired and adapted to the needs of wartime (in this case, equipped with an experimental bioreactor) factory fell in greasy smears on a dirty sky covered by surly clouds. Behind a high fence twisted by top with barbed wire – more modern fences have not yet been mounted – two hundred prisoners languished in the warehouse building, guarded by stephanites. The third hundred, lined up in a column by four, was already half-hidden in the iron gates of a workshop. The followers of Bella and Edward were in a hurry to complete the general cleaning of the world, in order as soon as possible with a clear conscience and a sense of accomplishment, sit down in upholstered chairs, wrap themselves in warm plaids and, sipping black coffee, enjoy Twilight in printed and non-printed (meaning screened) form…  
Kirce James, a GDI military intelligence officer, who until recently had been serenely doing paperwork, and only a week ago, by coincidence after the death of the commander, had temporarily led a squad, which was stuck behind enemy lines and, for lack of a better choice, quietly sabotaged, cursed in an undertone: it took too long to get there. Now they would have to come on an assault right away, but she planned to disable the bioreactor first by firing at it from afar, so that the captives could be released later on the sly.  
Sneaking unnoticed 'titans' failed. The alarm went off, and the stephanites instantly prepared for the defense, only a small group still busily urging the apostate line toward the workshop, while another group took some boxes and galloped off to the warehouse.  
"They'll blow it up if we pin them down," Kirce guessed, realizing that the peacekeepers couldn't stop mining the warehouse.  
But stephanites was not lucky to mess up even more. When the group ran across a strip of hard-packed turf, which inadvertently or for some practical reason was not flooded with concrete, in the thick of it, having wrapped half of it on spiked shafts, from under the ground crawled out an old, battered, but quite combat-ready 'devil's tongue'. The jets came out from the sides, the fire blazed, and in the air poured out a pleasant smell of a fried man, which far away from the scene of action, Kirce, of course, did not feel, but imagined so vividly, that drooling had begun.  
"Serve them right! Well done, guys!" she rejoiced, and only then realized that by 'devil's tongues' and flamethrower tanks in general the GDI never was armed. "Damn fanatics, what did they forget here?!"  
Stormtroopers barged into the factory through the walls broken by the 'titans' and the next hour merged into one continuous firefight with elements of hide-and-seek, catch-up and bruising.  
Absolutely not knowing how to handle weapons, so was coordinating the actions of the soldiers from a safe distance, Lieutenant James appeared on the battlefield when all the fun had over, and the corpses of the stephanites had gradually dragged to the bioreactor – it would still have to be destroyed, but at least it would serve for the good of the people. She was faced with bureaucratic boredom: to organize former prisoners, explain what to do and where to go, contact the nearest refugee camp…  
Six 'titans' stood proudly in the middle of the yard, and nearby three guys in Nod uniform calmly cleaned the drilling device of their tank with some iron from the offal, which stuck between the spikes.  
Sitting in the shadow of a alongside warehouse, two skinny dogs who had appeared from nowhere were watching the process with interest.  
Finally, one of them cautiously trotted across the yard and stopped very close to the tank.  
"Woof?" it wagged her tail questioningly.  
The guys turned around, looked at the animal with understanding, and one of them threw it something, that suspiciously resembling a stomach with a piece of gut dangling from it.  
"Here, chow that."  
"Woof," the dog thanked and went off with the loot to its friend. Then, accompanied by five stormtroopers, Lieutenant James approached the tank.  
"Wanna some stephameat, too?" asked the same Brotherhood adept. "Fresh, take it. Looks scrummy."  
"What are you doing here?!" Kirce immediately set on him, at the same time quickly glancing at the patch on which was the name – Ajay. Neither the surname nor the rank was on it.  
"We saving civilians."  
"We already saving these! Look for others!"  
"Oh, what a tomboy. Take it easy, there’s enough for everyone," Ajay wiped his hands with a rag that exuded the smell of machine oil and was not very fresh.  
Kirce tried to make a very menacing expression on her face, but from the rounded eyes of her interlocutor realized that she had not been very successful.  
"Right, here's what we'll do. You helped us, so we won’t detain you," she said sternly. "Take your jalopy and get out of here before I change my mind."  
"We so-o-o scared, yes," Ajay turned to his friends, and they nodded with the most serious look, agreeing with him. "Okay, the lady’s word is law. Let's go, guys."  
Both soldiers instantly climbed into the tank, Ajay followed them, but lingered. He picked out something from the prongs of the drilling device.  
"Baby," he said solemnly to Kirce, ignoring the stormtroopers raised weapons, "I think I fell in love. Here's a memory of our brief meeting!"  
Before the Lieutenant could even say a word, a slightly dusty and battered heart was put into her hands.  
"I would give you mine one, but for now I myself need it," Ajay laughed, as he disappeared through the hatch. 'Devil's tongue' snarled, jerked, and rolled off the concreted yard to a piece of free land. Two minutes later, it was gone, leaving only a crumbling hole. Kirce stared after him, dumbfounded.  
"I knew that all Nod fanatics are crazy… But this one is just unique."  
Someone whined nearby. The same dog flattened its ears and gave a barely audible yapping, looking devoutly from Kirce to the heart in her hands.  
"Extortionist," Kirce muttered, throwing a delicacy to it, and went to the civilians freed from the captivity of stephanites.

She didn't want to hide it any longer. It’s not that General Qatar was tormented by remorse, but the truth is a thing with a known substance of the same properties – would float up anyway, so it was necessary – even in retrospect – to get the official consent of the leader of the Brotherhood to all that indecency, which had already become a fait accompli a week ago. And then just a good trump card in the sleeve was found.  
"'Well, we have only one way out." Kilian sighed heavily, already knowing what was coming next her proposal. "We must make a truce with the GDI."  
"What?! Never!" Kane resented and for the sake of conviction slamming his fist down on the table. "An alliance with the infidels? How did you come up with that idea?"  
"I'll show you."  
Dividing the room in half, a holographic screen flickered in the air. An image appeared on it: along the corridors of an ancient building, while stripping off his clothes, Edward Cullen runs with an expression of extreme determination on his pale face. His puny little body begins to glow strangely as he approaches the exit onto the street…  
Five seconds of this was enough for Kane.  
"Okay. Persuaded. A truce with the GDI. Just… turn it off."

Lia Kinsburg went to the window, pulled back the slats of the blind, and looked out. The city winked at her with several signal lights, telling that it is not really asleep, but only pretending to be. These lights, which always seemed Lia friendly, now flickered slyly and expectantly, as if they knew: something will happen soon.  
"I don't like this," Granger repeated for the third time. He had only recently found out that many GDI field commanders made an informal truce with the Brotherhood General, and if not acted as a united front with the fanatics, at least periodically coordinated actions and provided mutual assistance. Her appeal to the enemy troops bypassing their commander-in-chief, Kilian Qatar explained by saying that she didn't have time to wait for the rest of the Council of Directors and Granger himself to cope with their paranoia about the Brotherhood and decide something. Explained to Lia Kinsburg, when contacted the White House one evening, and also to General Granger, who happened to be in the Director-General's office… of course, absolutely by accident. And at the same time, she suggested them to legalize their relationship, that is, to conclude an official alliance in order to jointly kick some stephanitian asses. "I don’t like this from any side."  
"I'm too, but… I see no other way. Stephanie needs to be stopped, and neither we nor the Brotherhood can do it alone. Or maybe?.. You have all the data on the state of our troops, tell me, without the help of Nod, can we cope?"  
Jack just shook his head:  
"No. But we still can't trust them."  
"Is it about trust? It's about survival. Our society, our civilization… perhaps our entire species! For this purpose, I would agree to make a truce even with a cholera vibrio."  
"Should I say to General Qatar exactly that?" Granger tried to grin.  
"That or another, it doesn't matter. I don’t think they have a better opinion of us."

Redmond was simply stunned by the news received from the intelligence headquarters. No, he didn’t doubt for a second that Miller's book worked wonders, but he would never have believed that it could force such irreconcilable enemies as the GDI and Nod to unite.  
Fortunately, most of the GDI's army, after saying good-bye to the Council of Directors, solemnly swore allegiance to Stephanie, was placed under the command of Will Johnson and sent to clean up North and South America, and most of the Brotherhood's army under the command of John Willson began to give peace left and right to the inhabitants of Europe. Stephanites had a numerical superiority, and it wasn’t worth talking about moral, so Director Boyle did not feel anxiety – only admiration.  
But for some reason, Stephanie was disaffected.

Neither General Granger nor General Qatar have been pleased with the news from the fields for a long time.  
The troops which had deserted under Mrs. Miller's banner were joined by ordinary followers, who formed squads of Shadowy Stephanites and compensated for their insufficiency of skill with an excess of diligence. They captured cities one by one, hunted down those who had risked not supporting the global mania, and herded them into whipped up camps so that they would not embarrass the rest of the inhabitants with their senseless obstinacy in refusing to accept the message of love and peace.  
Supporters of both the GDI and Nod also whipped up camps for refugees, where they evacuated innocently injured for their beliefs people that had been recaptured from the stephanites. Then the stephanites came for a rematch, and it all started over again.  
Cheerful running around lasted for about two months, and in the turmoil no one already understood where their own, where strangers. It happened that 'marauders' and 'scorpions' escorted refugees from the Blue Zones to the camp in which the former residents of the Yellows were sheltering under the protection of 'mammoths' and 'hawks'… And sometimes it happened vice versa.  
Flags with an eagle or a scorpion sting were now adjoined not only with each other, but also with sheets, which presented the world with a new symbol – a snide yellow eight-pointed star.  
At the same time, the warring parties quickly stopped figuring out, is Tiberium evil or a gift of the Lord: they used it as the simplest and most accessible energy resource, literally lying under their feet, leaving all the religious and political aspects for later.  
In short, everything was mixed up in a Molotov cocktail...

The peacekeepers surrendered Washington to Commander Johnson’s troops almost without a fight.  
"What's the use of defending houses in which there will be no one to live? Now we must devote all our forces to protecting civilians," Lia said, and when the other Directors began to tell something about the symbolism of the main administrative buildings of the GDI, their significance for morale and so on, she answered: "The Sun is our symbol. And no stephanites are a threat to it."  
The phrase was quickly picked up and chatted away on all channels of the media that remained loyal to the peacekeepers.  
But in fact, there was another reason to allow Redmond Boyle to plop his ass into the Director-General's chair and start forming something like a government for a new, not yet been fully designated, only clearing the place for its future greatness superpower.  
The stephanites would capture the White House in any case, except for the most extreme one, in which they would simply destroyed it. Neither Lia nor Granger thought it necessary to hold it at the cost of numerous victims. But the Temple Prime actually a temple was not and served solely military purposes, and was protected much better than any other base. Therefore, it was quite suitable for what the allies planned.  
Once, a signal came into the information network of stephanites through three shady satellites.  
Kane didn't make any speeches this time, just called for everyone to take good look at the sky one more time. Then the sky appeared in the frame. And in the sky – the shadows that formed the words:

Jacob is furry and Edward is gothic.  
Love in a coffin seemed them so exotic…  
And in this story was happy the end:  
Bella them caught and the coffin lid nailed.

No miracles – the source of light were powerful spotlights mounted on the roof of the Temple, and the screen was dense clouds, which dissipate only once a year, and even if it was especially lucky. But the technical side of the issue did not concern the stephanites. Spitting on everything else, enraged by insult to his beloved book, Commander Wilson gathered all the troops and sent them to assault the Temple, over which new inscriptions now appeared every day, one more malicious than the other.  
"A few more days and we'll be finished," General Qatar soon cheerfully reported to the prophet. The plan to troll the stephanites to get them all in one place was hers. And it appeared at the moment when Kane casually mentioned a Tiberium bomb, which could theoretically be assembled from improvised materials and thrown to enemies. There was almost sea of Tiberium under the Temple. In the most literal sense.  
"We have problems…"  
"What else?" The best troops were left as the garrison, but they too could not restrain the enemies for a long time. The engineering brigades were running off their feet, putting in order the overheating Obelisks, battered turrets and all other defensive structures, the protective field generators was working at the limit of their capabilities, the entire area for a kilometer and a half around the Temple was covered in an even layer of shell casings, and the stephanites still could not stop.  
So the Tiberium bomb would be very opportunely.  
But Kane was in some confusion and did not hurry to gladden with success.  
"I'm building this bomb, everything is exactly according to the instructions, and this is the third time that it's turn out a tie-laying machine!" Anticipating a logical question, he added: "And it doesn't say 'finalize with a rasp'!"  
"Well, then try to assemble a tie-laying machine," General Qatar suggested reasonably.  
"I tried…"  
"And what did you get?"  
"I don't know what," the Prophet answered irritably, remembering that he had taken the thing back apart as soon as it had politely asked where Sarah Connor lived, "but I didn't like it."  
"Maybe you hold the instruction upside down? And… where did you even get this instruction from?!"  
"From Tacitus, of course."  
Kilian thought deeply. There is no time to wait for the result of the fourth attempt. And it is unlikely that it will be fundamentally different from the previous three.  
"To hell the instructions," she said finally. "Screw together all the details, doesn't matter how, just make sure it will not fall apart during transportation – and let it be pleasantly to look at."  
"What makes you think this will work?"  
"Hmm…" Kilian found it unnecessary to explain that she just needed something to keep the restless prophet busy, so that he wouldn't cause anything while she dealing with the whole pile of problems that had fallen down. "I believe in you."  
And, until he began to ask all sorts of unwanted questions, she hurried to the Legion's main console to contact their allies. Even if Kane gets lucky, to make a big high-quality bang one more element is needed, otherwise the bomb’s power just won't be enough to trigger a chain reaction. The Nod scientists already had all the calculations, which made Kilian wonder if Kane planned to arrange something like that, but she left the clarification of these details for later. Now – only the current showdown.  
"What about the ion cannon?"  
All the control centers of the most powerful GDI weapon were destroyed by the peacekeepers themselves – when they realized that they could not protect them. So the orbital cannons were useless space junk. To restore a connection with them has not yet succeeded, but Granger assured that specialists are doing everything possible.  
"There are already half of their army. Three days," the General measured out deadline. "Strive."  
"We'll strive," Jack promised wearily.

For some time now, Sandra Telfair had been trying to figure out all the matters that her runaway boss was somehow involved in. Reports, summaries, dispatches, more reports, dispatches again… Every day Sandra brought to the General whole lot of this codswallop and did not even expect how monotonous and boring everything was.  
And also was terribly annoying the weird song about how the Obelisk fell in love with the ion cannon and, when no one was looking, tickled it with the laser.  
This song was purring for the third hour by a hacker who was digging into the General's computer. Sandra hoped that he would find at least something really important that could compensate for the lost time.  
Finally, patience ran out.  
"Found something?" Sandra asked, preparing to expel the hapless singer immediately after a negative answer.  
"Interrogations, denunciations… something about tanks… and about this ancient historian…"  
"A historian? Which one?"  
"Citatus… or Tacitus… something like that…"  
Five minutes later, while waiting for the video link to Boyle to be set up, Sandra was quietly humming about the ion cannon and tapping her foot to the beat of a simple melody.


End file.
